


Thorin Oakenboner; Glorious when aroused, majestic otherwise.

by poedaaaayumeron



Series: Thorin's a little possessive... [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Fingerfucking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Possessive!Thorin, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poedaaaayumeron/pseuds/poedaaaayumeron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Bilbo’s hair was infuriatingly short.</em>
</p><p><strong>EDITED.</strong> If there are still mistakes, I'm most definitely blind or something. Feel free to point any out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorin Oakenboner; Glorious when aroused, majestic otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to Tumblr user, Forianna for a lot of this fic. Very inspirational for porn, that one is. Bahaha.

Bilbo’s hair was infuriatingly short.

Thorin enjoyed its length most of the time, for it was easy to hold on to as he thrust shallowly into the moist heat of the hobbit’s mouth. It was also perfectly soft, and pleasurable against Thorin’s rough fingers, which fast became a source of comfort to him in the small hours of the night when he was roused from his sleep by nightmares. He was currently stroking the soft tresses, though it was more the tight ring of lips, the light grazing of teeth, and molten suction around the most sensitive part of his body that had the dwarf growling in absolute rapture. He was merciless with his thrusts into the halfling’s mouth, his head tipping back against the chair he was currently seated in. With a huff, Thorin’s eyes rolled back at the overwhelming sensation. They hadn’t much time since their dallying in the woods to continue their affair. Even their short stay at Beorn’s wasn’t nearly private enough for Bilbo and his loud cries, and the hobbit simply refused to let any kisses progress for fear of losing their tenuous control.

It was simply maddening, holding his hobbit every night, yet being unable to do anything. The modesty of hobbits would be the death of him, he could swear it. But now, in his private room in Lake-Town, he fully intended to take advantage of both the privacy, and his Bilbo.

In the lull in their activities, Thorin was met with the frustrating realization that he couldn’t braid his hobbit’s hair, couldn’t officially claim him in dwarven fashion. And each day that passed with Bilbo unmarked and therefore unclaimed, the dwarven king grew more jealous and possessive. Each interaction the hobbit had with anyone in the company was met with a stony glare from Thorin, and he absolutely seethed whenever another dwarf had to touch the halfling. Worst of all was Bofur, who was merely a friendly dwarf and physically affectionate with Bilbo. And of course, Bofur would just grin at Thorin, apparently oblivious to the black rage the prince felt. What was worse was when Bilbo began to return the gestures. A light touch on the arm, a pat on the back, once even a hug. Thorin snarled at that memory, his fingers tightening in Bilbo’s tawny hair, causing the hobbit to cry out. The vibrations shot through the dwarf’s cock and he bucked up, almost gagging the halfling in his excitement. Bilbo just moaned at that however, and brought a small hand up to fondle Thorin’s sac. The dwarf hissed and snapped his hips up, holding the hobbit’s head tightly in his large hands.

Then he thought back to the way his nephews had hugged Bilbo upon escaping their barrels the night before, the way the halfling blushed as Fíli and Kíli whispered something into his ears, and the way Bilbo couldn’t meet Thorin’s eyes for the rest of the night. Jealousy and suspicions ran rampant through his mind, and he made sure to have the hobbit tucked into bed with him before he had retired for much-needed sleep. Now, as he stared down at the small creature worshiping his cock, he felt the slow burn of anger and need beneath his skin.

He needed to punish the hobbit. For putting this off, and for what Thorin believed to be him leading the other dwarves on (of course this was a thought he later realized was completely irrational). Thorin pulled Bilbo away from his prick, the halfling whining as he tried to fight the tug on his hair and go back to work; and _gods_ if that didn’t have the dwarf taking deep breaths through his nose to stave off an embarrassingly early climax.

“Please, Thorin, I need— _ah_!” Bilbo began, but squeaked as the dwarf pulled him up and slung him over his lap. Bilbo gasped as this brought his naked erection against Thorin’s muscled thigh, and the dwarf chuckled darkly as the halfling rutted against him.

“Enough,” he ordered thickly, one hand sliding down the line of Bilbo’s back to cup one pale globe of the hobbit’s pert little arse. He squeezed the round flesh, growling as he watched goosepimples flash across the hobbit’s skin. “You’ve been a terrible tease, my hobbit.”

Bilbo shivered, shaking his head as a desperate sound left his throat. “It was not my intention, Thorin.”

“And you have been incredibly naughty,” Thorin growled, blunt nails digging into the flesh he still held in his fingers. “You should be punished.” His voice went dark and husky on the last word, his mouth watering as Bilbo froze, only to nod frantically in agreement a few seconds later. The tips of his ears were bright red, and Thorin felt a feral grin pull at his lips at the idea of Bilbo being so desperate for it, but too embarrassed to voice it.

“I think ten should do,” Thorin murmured, rubbing his hand down Bilbo’s flank before pulling it away. “Count.”

“Pardon?” Bilbo gasped, confusion cutting through his arousal. With a smirk, Thorin lifted his hand and brought it down sharply across the pale skin of the hobbit’s arse. Bilbo gasped, a high-pitched vocalization trailing the intake of air, as he scrambled as far forward as he could on Thorin’s lap, which didn’t turn out to be very far.

Red bloomed across the white, like a brand on his hobbit’s skin. It was perfect, and painfully arousing. Thorin bit the inside of his lip and growled, “remember your instructions.”

“One,” Bilbo whimpered, his entire body shaking as he wrapped one small hand around Thorin’s ankle. He whined as he waited for the next, and he didn’t have to wait for long.

The dwarf’s large palm cracked across the other cheek with more force than the last, pulling a screamed “ _Two_!” from Bilbo. The hobbit rocked his hot little erection into Thorin’s thigh, groaning sweetly at the friction. The third slap caught Bilbo by surprise, a cry bursting from his throat and he moaned out, “ _three_!” He was whimpering now, his flesh heated and stinging with the rush of blood.

Smacks four and five happened in quick succession, barely registering as two for a moment, and almost had Bilbo coming against the dwarf’s thigh. His grip on Thorin’s ankle was white-knuckled as he tried to reel in his arousal. Thorin saw the way the hobbit’s back tensed and went rigid and took pity for a moment, letting Bilbo catch his breath and regain some composure. Thorin stoked the inflamed flesh with a calloused palm, smirking at the way Bilbo’s breath hitched and the low keen that escaped his throat. Gripping the reddened globes tightly, pulling a pleasure-pained cry from the smaller man as he spread them, gazing at the puckered entrance of his sweet hobbit. He slid his fingertips into the crease, pressing at the entrance lightly.

“ _Ahn_!” Bilbo almost shrieked, bucking into Thorin’s thigh.

“Gods, how I’ve dreamt of your tight heat,” the dwarf groaned. “All those nights in the cold wilderness, all I could think about was sinking into you.”

Bilbo whined at that, wiggling back against the fingers that still teased at his entrance.

“There was once, before dawn, that I wished to take you,” Thorin whispered, a fingertip slipping just slightly into the hobbit. “You were pliant with sleep, and I had only to move your small clothes down just a bit, and I could have slipped inside.”

“Thorin,” the halfling moaned, barely restraining himself from rutting against the dwarf’s thigh.

“Have you caught your breath?” he asked, his voice going dark again as he listened to the hobbit’s laboured breathing.

“No, Thorin, I need— _ah_!” Bilbo’s plea was cut off by a stinging slap to the juncture of his thigh and buttock, previously untouched skin singing with heat. When Thorin pinched the reddening flesh, Bilbo sobbed out, “six! Oh _gods_ …Thorin, _please_!”

Another stinging blow had the hobbit rocking forward with a whispered “seven” on his breath, followed by a drawn-out groan. He was shivering violently against Thorin’s thighs, and suddenly the dwarf was finding it near-impossible to breathe.

“You like this, don’t you?” he growled, grabbing the hobbit’s bruised flesh in a punishing grip, ripping a cry from the man and a bucking of his hips.

“Y-yes,” Bilbo murmured, pressing his face into Thorin’s thigh in embarrassment.

“Say it again,” Thorin ordered, delivering the eighth swat, one that was angled just so that the dwarf’s fingers slid against Bilbo’s sac when he pulled away.

“I like it,” the small man whined, humping Thorin’s leg once before stilling with a visible shudder.

“Louder, you dirty tease,” Thorin snarled, once again grabbing at the reddened globes, his grip fierce and unyielding.

“Gods, _yes_ , I like it! I love it, Thorin, please, please for the love of all things, _please_ Thorin,” Bilbo cried into the quiet bedroom, and no doubt he could be easily heard by the dwarves that occupied the rooms around them. “I need you inside me, please, please, please.”

“Two more,” Thorin ground out, fighting the urge to do as the pleading halfling asked. “Beg for them.”

“Oh _gods_ , Thorin please, hit me, please,” the hobbit begged, wiggling his arse enticingly.

Thorin obliged with a hard slap, fingertips slipping into the crack to tease at the tight hole there, and pulling an exquisite whine from his small lover.

“ _Nine_ , yes, gods yes, please Thorin, another,” Bilbo whimpered, his nails digging into Thorin’s ankle hard enough to draw blood.

“Again,” Thorin growled, thoroughly enjoying the way Bilbo’s ears turned bright red.

“Please, my king, another!”

The noise that came out of Thorin with the final slap against Bilbo’s abused flesh was positively animal, and he was suddenly standing and bending Bilbo over the table, lowered as it was like the rest of the furniture for their convenience. Even with it lowered, the hobbit was only able to reach the ground with the tips of his toes, offering him no leverage and no real control; just how Thorin wanted the hobbit. The dwarf dropped to his knees, grabbed the bruised cheeks in his merciless grip, and levered them apart with his large thumbs. Immediately, he suckled the hobbit’s testicles into his mouth, sucking roughly until Bilbo sobbed. At the sound, he left off the sac and slid his tongue up the halfling’s perineum and pressed the flat of it against his puckered entrance. Without any further warning, Thorin pushed inside and began a harsh stabbing rhythm.

Bilbo whined and whimpered the whole time, making what tiny movements with his hips he could, and loved every moment of it. Even with the burning rasp of Thorin’s beard against his already irritated skin. Thorin did everything for the whoreish screams of his lover, taking care to pull back and return to licking every now and again, turning the hobbit into a sobbing mess at the lack of stimulation. Only once did Thorin suckle at the ring of muscle, and the reaction was so frighteningly arousing, he had to leave off the particular ministration lest he come undone completely untouched. Bilbo was whimpering into the wood of the table, gasping and writhing after having gone completely limp when Thorin sucked at him. His breathing was laboured, little noises leaving his lips on every exhale.

With a little bit of oil from a flask he had on the chair with him, Thorin slicked his fingers before working one in alongside his tongue, growling as the hobbit clamped down around him briefly. The vibrations sent shivers and goosepimples racing across Bilbo’s body, punching a keening cry from the small creature’s gut. Sliding another finger in, Thorin alternated between fucking Bilbo with his tongue and fingers nailing his lover’s prostate with each inward thrust of his thick digits. Thorin scissored his fingers inside Bilbo, stabbing his tongue in between them as he did so, relishing in the delighted cries his hobbit was making.

“Please, my king, I need you,” Bilbo begged, his voice muffled against the wood of the table. “ _Please_.”

A growl rumbled through Thorin’s chest as he pulled away, standing up and slicking his cock with the excess oil on his hand. Grabbing the hobbit around the waist, he pulled him down just a bit so that his feet were on the ground, and positioned himself at Bilbo’s entrance. Thorin nudged against the ring of muscle, sighing quietly as his lover mewled beneath him. “Is this what you want?” he growled, leaning down to breathe into the hobbit’s ear.

“Yes,” Bilbo moaned. “ _Please_ , my king.”

“As you wish, my hobbit,” he ground out as he pushed forward in one, long, unrelenting stroke until he was seated fully in his lover’s quivering body.

Bilbo almost screamed at the sudden fullness, and scrambled for purchase on the table in front of him. Before the halfling had a chance to adjust Thorin was moving, his hips a piston against Bilbo’s bruised bottom. The pace was brutal, slamming Bilbo against the table, and the table against the wall. The room was full of Bilbo’s pleasure soaked cries, Thorin’s grunts, the sounds of skin slapping and the table thudding dully against the wall with each of the dwarf’s vicious thrusts. The hobbit’s toes curled upon each thrust, and he tried to move to meet each violent stroke.

When he saw the hobbit wasn’t nearly incoherent enough, Thorin changed the angle of his strokes and was satisfied with the wail spilling from Bilbo’s throat, and the way his blunt nails gouged the table in front of him. “Now, my treasure,” Thorin growled, pelvis stilling as he reached up to grab Bilbo’s wrists. He pulled the hobbit’s arms behind his back and pinned them there at Bilbo’s lower back with one hand. “You shouldn’t damage our host’s things.”

Bilbo released a keening whine as Thorin started up the rough pace again, his little fingers flexing as he half-heartedly fought the dwarf’s hold on his wrists. He shouted as Thorin’s savage thrusts pegged his prostate on each stroke. While the hobbit devolved into a moaning, drooling mess on the table before him, Thorin absolutely salivated, groaning deeply as he took in the sight of Bilbo’s perfect, pale back. Only small scratches marred the perfection, save for one developing scar from the goblins’ whips.

Thorin leaned down, further pinning the halfling to the table, and again changing the angle so that he had Bilbo wailing on every slide into him. The small creature began to beg for release quietly, his breath coming out as whines as he scooted his hips back minutely. Breathing against the smaller man’s sensitive ear, causing the hobbit to shudder and cry out, Thorin whispered deep and huskily, “you’re mine.”

“Yes!” Bilbo shrieked as another angled thrust struck home on the sensitive gland in his core.

Thorin bit down on Bilbo’s neck and shoulder savagely, managing to draw blood, and sucked a deep bruise into the flesh. When the hobbit whimpered in pain, Thorin pulled back and lapped at the broken skin apologetically before bringing his free hand up to grab Bilbo’s hair. “You will not hide this mark,” he ordered, his movements slowing, but not dampening in power. “And I will continue to mark you thusly until— _mm_ —your hair is long enough to braid.”

“Gods, yes!” Bilbo shuddered, his entire body tensing beneath Thorin. “So close, my king.”

The dwarf pulled out with a hiss, releasing Bilbo’s hands and hauling the hobbit up so that he was kneeling on the table. Bilbo released a startled squeak at the sudden change, but cried out again as Thorin’s calloused hands grabbed the abused cheeks of his arse and held them apart. His entrance was pink and loose, moistened by spit and oil and twitched under Thorin’s perusal. With a growl, he bit one reddened cheek hard enough to pull a cry from Bilbo and sucked harshly until blood rose to the surface in a gorgeous bruise.

“ _Mine_ ,” he snarled, feeling the hobbit’s shudder against his lips. Before the halfling could even begin to beg again, Thorin had him on his back and brought is mouth to the V of Bilbo’s pelvis, sucking and biting bruises into the flesh there as well.

“ _Mine,”_ he growled again as he stood back up, greedy and determined. At Bilbo’s frantic nod and wide eyes, Thorin thrust into the halfling’s body, settling balls deep once again and resuming their previous pace. And, _gods_ , if the sight of Bilbo writhing and thrashing wasn’t enough to bring Thorin dangerously close to the edge once again, the hobbit was moaning wantonly and begging for harder, and faster. Thorin couldn’t handle it anymore, he couldn’t hold out. He needed to see his hobbit come, and he needed to see it _now_. Wrapping a large hand around Bilbo’s cock, the dwarf angled his pistoning hips to fuck his lover just so.

“Come for me, _âzyungâl_ ,” Thorin whispered, tenderly and mindlessly.

Bilbo sucked in a shocked breath, eyes flying wide as he met the dwarf’s gaze, and for a moment, he was coherent. Then he was screaming and grabbing at Thorin’s forearm, arching off the table, and painting both of their torsos with hot, sticky semen. Thorin growled, thrusting into the convulsing heat around his prick, fucking Bilbo’s spent body as he hurtled toward his own orgasm. He was saying something, but whether in Westron or not, he couldn’t tell. He was too far gone in his ecstasy, his need, and his desire for Bilbo. He was lost in the intensity of his emotions for the hobbit, and groaned long and low as the heat in his gut coiled unbearably tight.

“ _Ghivashel_ ,” he shouted hoarsely as he came, pumping his seed deep inside the quivering body beneath him, making short, shuddering thrusts through his own orgasm until his prick stopped pulsing. They panted together, eyes heavy-lidded as they watched each other come down from their highs. Bilbo let a lazy grin spread his lips wide across his face, and he struggled to prop himself up on his hands. Pressing a soft kiss to Thorin’s lips, he pulled away.

“Mind if we move to the bed, my king?” Bilbo asked sweetly, grinning at the way Thorin shuddered.

“I believe that can be arranged,” Thorin murmured as he pulled out of his hobbit carefully and carried the tiny creature to the large bed on the other side of the room.

It was no wonder that evening at dinner the knowing looks that many, men and dwarves alike, would give the pair. Thorin was particularly pleased with the way the dwarves teased Bilbo, but no longer touched.

He had his treasure, had staked his claim, and was anxious for the day when he could braid his real claim into Bilbo’s curly, tawny locks.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> âzyungâl: Lover  
> ghivashel: Treasure of all treasures.
> 
> I looked up Khuzdul to do this fic, and I did very little real research, so if anyone more knowledgeable has any corrections, please feel free to get hold of me and correct me. Please. Haha


End file.
